I hesitate to put thought to paper
everything seems more real that way
and words feel so permanent
as if I’m committing to an emotion
I didn’t give my consent to feel.
Truth is, nothing feels right anymore
and I wonder how I ever knew
with such assurance
what right really was to begin with.
I once was found but now am lost
had sight but now can’t see.
I found this amongst some old writings of mine, it was written sometime in May 2011. Cyclical living, perhaps.